


moth wings

by craigtherewhoisahomosexual (Ashtarok)



Category: South Park
Genre: Birds, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Fire, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Smoking, Spirits, Supernatural Elements, kenny's curse is a thing, stranger things ghosthunting vibe is what im going for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:20:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashtarok/pseuds/craigtherewhoisahomosexual
Summary: two broken boys. one curse. too many deaths





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for the [babe](https://dudemarsh.tumblr.com/)  
> and my twenny lovin friends and tbh mostly for me  
> title kinda from moth’s wings by passion pit thanks mara u shit

Kenny took a deep breath of trepidation, squared his shoulders, then firmly knocked on the unassuming wooden door. He never expected to be here, outside of Tweek Tweak’s tiny cottage nestled in the woods of South Park, dragged unwillingly back to this shithole by the curse that had doggedly followed him since birth. Life had a way of doing that, though, full of nasty surprises at every turn.

There was a peephole, overly large and obnoxious, set into the door and Kenny covered it on impulse with his hand. Tweek had always been a weird kid, even for a place like South Park, jittery and nervous, and it hadn’t really shocked a single soul when it came out his family was grinding meth into their coffee daily. He’d disappeared for awhile in 8th grade, returned for high school supposedly clean but just as much of a mess. Kenny guessed it was permanent damage at that point, thanks to years of consuming hard drugs, but he’d never really tried to parse it out beyond that.

Tweek had never been in his friend group while Kenny was actually alive, more somebody he couldn’t help but observe, morbidly curious by how he lingered at the fringes slightly, a drifting outsider set aside as strange even to the freaks who populated South Park. He mingled in several distinct cliques, the least surprising being Craig’s— still close, tight friends even after an amicable break-up in sophomore year— and the most surprising being the Goths. Kenny kinda got it though; Tweek  _ was  _ rather nonconformist, despite trying his damndest to be.

After graduation, Kenny had split as soon as physically possible, heading for the booming oilfield with promises to wire Karen part of his paychecks. Most of their class had bolted, honestly. They’d all had their fill and then some of the enigma of how everyday would go: something normal, maybe, or perhaps alien abduction, or giant robots, or god knows whatever else. There’d been a few exceptions, as always, most notably Cartman staying with his mother and fueling their odd codependency— but Tweek hadn’t gone either. 

He’d opened up his parents’ old shop, instead. The Tweaks would be in jail another ten years minimum and that’s how long everybody mutually assumed the store would sit empty, but Tweek had single handedly restored it to its former glory and then some. As far as Kenny knew it did well despite his young age. Looking at the well-maintained yard and sturdy house he was now hammering at the door of, Kenny assumed it had continued to do so.

That wasn’t why he was here though. 

Tweek had become a renowned spiritualist. Banishing malevolents, cleansing spaces, putting the unsettled to rest, and handling anything ghost. Claiming he could see and communicate with the dead. Most pertinently— breaking curses. A jack of all spiritual and supernatural trades. And, from all the gossip and hubbub Kenny had listened to, he was quite fucking good at it. 

An impatient, irritated noise came from the other side of the door. Kenny almost jerked back on instinct, but he managed to remember at the last moment and firmly left his hand covering the peephole. A deep sigh came next, before the sounds of clinking keys. Several locks were undone and Kenny withdrew his hand expectantly. Several more clicks of opening locks. Then a few more. Then a couple after that, too. Christ. 

After thirteen, the deadbolt was finally slid off, and the door cracked an inch. Tweek had grown into himself a little, but Kenny sort of thought he’d forever look like he was uncomfortable with existing as a physical form. Like he was so much, all the time, for one little human skin and some bird bones to contain. He’d always been pretty though, taking after his mother and her fair looks.

His hair was still an absolutely unruly mess, the palest yellow and disarrayed so strands were going everywhere, bangs aggressively pushed back off his face and held there by sheer force of will or, occasionally, like today, barrettes. It always reminded Kenny of a lion’s mane, personally, especially when he’d get his fingers messing with it and tousling it up. His eyes were an intense green, but the most defining feature was definitely his heavy eye-bags, thicker and darker than Kenny had ever seen them in high school. He’d angled out and become all sharp edges, gotten taller, and yet still carried himself like he was trying to disappear.

“Kenny?” Shock colored his tone. Kenny offered his prettiest smile in return. “What the fuck are you doing here?” The door opened another inch.

“Well… I heard you break curses,” Kenny started. Instantly, the guarded look was back, the door slitting to a tiny crack as Tweek glared at him through it, closed off in the span of a second. 

“No. I don’t.” Tweek’s voice was hard, brittle as ice and just as sharp. And then the door  _ shut _ . Right in his face. 

Kenny stared at it in bewilderment, blinking slowly for a moment. “Tweek! Shit— no, I know damn well you fucking do! I talked to Gregory, you broke his by having him eat all the pennies! You fixed Shelly’s mouth! Fuck! I need your help.”

The locks started to click back on, deliberate and hurried, clearly upset. Kenny banged on the door with a grunt and couldn’t help a little twinge of satisfaction as one of the locks fell heavy to the floor. It was quickly scrabbled after. “Tweek, I’m begging. I know you can help me, you’ve been recommended for curse breaking all around the country. You can help me,” Kenny switched to pleading.

“Not anymore,” Tweek said tightly, muffled through the door. The final lock clicked on. “I can’t help anyone! Go away, ngh, there’s nothing for you here. Get the fuck, gh, off my property.” His tic was back and agitation was evident in his voice, but Kenny couldn’t resist a final try.

“Is it because that girl died?” he asked breathlessly. It got silent behind the door for a moment. Then a gun was abruptly cocked.

“Get. Off. My. Property,” Tweek hissed. “Don’t come back. Don’t come to, ah, my shop! Get the hell out of South Park. There’s not a goddamn thing for you, hh, here and, since your sister is gone, there never will be! So  _ go _ , right fucking now.”

Hastily, Kenny backed up, putting his hands up in the _I surrender_ gesture. Another time, then. Getting shot wasn’t the worst way to die by far, but it would be fucking annoying at the moment. That was okay. Kenny climbed into his truck with a sigh, glancing at the little, unassuming cottage and noting Tweek’s flourishing garden. He drove off for now, back to his hotel— the only one in South Park that was roach-free— but hoped sincerely Tweek knew this fight was far from over.

Kenny had always been good at being patient, after all. 

~~~

And so he was back the very next day, no less deterred and early. Kenny helped himself to the sad continental breakfast of his hotel then made his way towards Tweek Bros. coffee shop, whistling cheerfully as he decided to walk— it being only about 5 minutes from where he was staying. The streets all looked the same, which Kenny was honestly unsure if that was more comforting or unsettling. He thought, perhaps, South Park might never age, stuck forever in its own time loop of hell. 

At least Tweek Bros. had changed. Kenny didn’t know why Tweek had kept the name, but everything else was renovated and new-looking, clean, shiny, and welcoming. Untouched by the nostalgic film of dust and old that seemed to coat everything else. The color scheme matched surprisingly well and it looked cozy but not overtly stuffy. Kenny was impressed; that could be a hard difference to balance, and Tweek had nailed it with apparent ease.

He slipped in through the door, observing the quiet jingle from the bell at the top to announce his presence. It was empty at the moment, but Kenny figured 10 was probably the lull between breakfast coffee and lunch breaks. Tweek was behind the counter polishing one of the machines when he looked up with a faint smile and greeting on his tongue. Kenny could tell the exact moment Tweek spotted him because his face darkened instantly and he shook his head. 

“Get out,” he demanded, exiting from behind the cash register area and untying his apron with a scowl. “Get the fuck out of my café!” Tweek scolded, starting to shoo at him like Kenny was a pesky bug. Kenny didn’t move an inch, just stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels with a sigh. Determined, Tweek pushed at him a little, right on his chest— but not nearly enough to actually move him. 

“If you wanted to feel me up there are easier ways, sweetheart,” Kenny told him with a faint grin. Tweek immediately backed up so fast he actually stumbled, tripping on his own feet. Kenny muffled a snort. 

“I don’t want you in here,” Tweek said firmly. “I’ll call the police. I have the right to, hh, refuse service to anyone. You’re not welcome in my shop.” He started edging back behind the counter, visibly going for his phone. Kenny shrugged.

“I haven’t been here in years, but the South Park I know has never,  _ ever  _ had competent cops. I’m not particularly concerned. Sorry,” he apologized, very clearly not meaning it all. Tweek deflated like a week-old party balloon, sighing heavily and resting himself against the barista counter. 

“You’re right,” he muttered, cheek squished up against the cold marble top. “Fucking asshole.” Tweek briefly closed his eyes, looking exhausted, then stood back up with an absolutely defiant look on his face. “I still don’t have to listen to you.” He turned away and started up cleaning the machine again, like he’d never been interrupted in his task at all. Kenny carefully eyed him. 

He looked tired, but. When didn’t Tweek Tweak look tired? He was tense, too, shoulders tight as he deliberately ignored Kenny’s presence by attacking the espresso maker with a soapy wash rag. Kenny leaned against the display case of baked goods, which on a brief perusal looked very delicious, and propped his chin in his hand so he could stare right at Tweek. Apparently, Tweek didn’t enjoy this, since he started to twitch shortly afterwards, movements choppy as he scrubbed at the machine. 

Less than 2 minutes was all it took. Tweek slammed the rag against the counter with a wet slap, whirling on Kenny. “Stop staring at me! Jesus,” he hissed. “I’m trying to work here! You know, run a business?” Tweek bit out. “You’re loitering  _ and  _ getting your filthy fingerprints all over my stuff.” He shook his head and glared at Kenny. “If you aren’t going to leave can I get you anything?” Tweek finally asked, looking like it was against his better judgement. 

Kenny hid a smile. Tweek was a lot more defensive and prickly now then he could ever recall him being in school, but apparently he still couldn’t handle being outright rude for very long. Cute.

“Yeah, I’ll take a large plain coffee with cream and sugar,” Kenny ordered, fumbling with his wallet and humming. Tweek looked at him mulishly for a moment.

“It’s not a plain coffee if you’re adding to it,” he said abruptly. “Pussy. That’ll be 2 bucks.” Tweek immediately started making it, brewing some fresh and then meticulously pouring it with enough room to add the dairy. After a moment, he reached out to place the cup on the counter— but Kenny also went to grab the coffee on instinct. Their fingers brushed and Tweek instantly recoiled, his breath catching as he dropped the drink. Thanks to fast reflexes, Kenny was able to catch it with only the tiniest bit of coffee sloshing over the edge, but he was far more concerned with the look on Tweek’s face.

He’d gone totally pale, shaky and faint, and his expression was twisted into almost agony; he curled protectively into himself, a turtle retreating into its shell. “Shit,” Tweek muttered darkly. “Jesus, Kenny, you’ve died thousands of fucking times.” Tweek exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over his face and swallowing back bile visibly. “That’s horrible. Jesus. Jesus fuck, man!” He was getting twitchy, tic present as he tilted his head and shuddered, starting to rub at his arms anxiously. 

Kenny immediately started to reach for his hands, automatically trying to comfort him the same way he used to soothe Karen’s nightmares and panic attacks. Tweek flinched away from him like a wild, scared animal, and Kenny stopped himself. Clearly, he was getting worked up and lost in his own racing thoughts, eyes wide and filled with primal fear as he stared at Kenny, a coyote caught in a trap. Kenny took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and gently murmured, “Can you go ahead and breathe for me?” Slowly, Tweek nodded, taking a noisy inhale before releasing his breath in a rush. Kenny shook his head.

“Like this,” he said, beginning to practice a very deliberate 4 seconds in, 4 seconds out breathing pattern. Tweek mimicked him silently, and slowly they breathed together, eyes locked; Kenny’s concerned, Tweek’s wary. Finally, after a minute, Tweek began to calm down, looking absolutely exhausted. “I mean. I knew it… but to feel it is something else,” he laughed, soberly staring at Kenny for a moment. Kenny nodded briefly before the knowledge of what Tweek had  _ actually  _ said hit him with the grace and force of a pile of bricks. Suddenly, he felt like he was the one on the edge of a meltdown.

“How—?” Kenny choked out, barely setting the coffee on the counter with trembling hands before he dropped it. “How? How did you know? Tweek! How?!” Tweek grimaced and crossed his arms protectively over his chest, sighing heavily. Kenny made a slightly desperate sound, and Tweek cracked.

“Okay. Listen. I always knew,” he confessed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but there. “I’ve always known. You’d die all the time. All the fucking time. Hh. It was like once a day for awhile there. I’d see you get hit by a car, decapitated, burned, stabbed, crushed by a falling pipe, eaten by rats, drowned, electrocuted. Gah!  _ And nobody else saw it.  _ Do you understand me?” Tweek asked intensely. “Nobody saw it! I brought it up a couple times and it was just ‘oh god, Tweek’s even less stable than we thought haha!’.” Kenny watched, feeling like his world had just irrevocably shifted three feet to the left, so everything was the same but completely, undeniably different.

“You’d get these. Fucking gnarly scars too, man. I couldn’t always see them, of course, but it was so obvious to see what had killed you, you know? The gunshots were the worst.” Tweek shuddered. “Without a doubt. But I never said  _ shit.  _ Okay? I didn’t need— I didn’t need anymore fucking excuses for them, gh, to distance and alienate me for being a weirdo.” He stared at Kenny, defiant. “I could always see  _ all  _ of the bullshit. The ghosts, the spirits, the curses, and weirdness, and fucking unholy shit that always spawns in this fucking hellhole pit of a town, okay?”

It was quiet for a moment between them, a fragile, aching sort of silence. Kenny swallowed back the lump in his throat and blinked up at Tweek with overly shiny eyes. “All I ever wanted… literally— just. The only thing I wanted. Was somebody to remember?” Kenny muttered. “It wasn’t all the dying, which, I mean, sucked ass. It hurts and it never stops hurting, and it’d happen  _ so  _ often back then. And I just wanted somebody to remember it.” He breathed out slowly, shakily. “Somebody to acknowledge it, you know? I tried so many times…”

“Nobody ever mentioned it,” Tweek told him. “Ever. Do you remember that time in the mines? The cart obliterated you. I’d already figured out by then not to say anything.” Tweek bit his bottom lip anxiously and started tugging at a stray string on his apron.

“I died in front of them, killed myself in front of them countless times, begging them to fucking remember. Cartman— I think he kinda knew, you know? I possessed him once, when I didn’t want to be reborn right away.” Kenny stared at his hands for a moment. “But I wasn’t gonna talk about anything that personal, not something I was so upset about.” Kenny sighed raggedly. “It. It would’ve been nice to know, Tweek.” 

“I’m not going to apologize,” Tweek answered testily, his words bold and strong despite the fact guilt was written on his face clear as day. “I was protecting myself. You know, I’m sorry you die so much and can’t stop, I am, but it’s not like my childhood was perfect either, Kenny,” he laughed bitterly. “I just wanted to be fucking normal for once.”

“Do you really think you were the only one craving normalcy?” Kenny asked, voice tight. He looked up and met Tweek’s eyes dead-on, steady and accusing. “Do you? Are you that selfish? That self-centered? I was  _ dying  _ everyday, Tweek!”

“My parents fed me meth daily from age 2 on. I’ve got so many mental and physical illnesses from their lack of care I’m downing 20 pills a day. I live alone in this crazy town trying to pretend I’ll make it out and be okay one day, but I know damn well I won’t,” Tweek snapped. “Life’s shitty for everybody, buddy. Get fucking used to it.”

“It didn’t have to be like that,” Kenny said firmly, shaking it off with a scowl. “And it doesn’t have to be like that now.”

“Oh god, thanks but no thanks, Kenny, I have a therapist I pay $200 an hour to hear the same peddling shit,” Tweek said dryly, breaking the mood a little. They both relaxed somewhat, regrouping. After a moment, Kenny picked up his coffee and took a thoughtful sip.

“Mm. That’s good,” he muttered, slightly surprised. Tweek started laughing instantly.

“It’s amazing, once you take out the meth and subpar ingredients, the local brew became significantly better,” he hummed. Kenny choked on his swallow with a snort of amusement. 

“So… the touch thing?” Kenny felt comfortable enough to broach after another minute of quiet sipping, Tweek going back to finishing cleaning the neglected espresso maker. Tweek glanced back at him curiously, clearly confused. “When you touched my hand? But you didn’t do that when you were attempting to push me out the door.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s just— skin on skin only, and usually only when it’s been a long time. I can feel every death on you? And see them, sorta, with the scars and sometimes there’s these sort of shadows melting off your aura. And just like how when I touch ghosts I see, hh, how they died— you’ve got a significant build-up of ghosts,” Tweek laughed, even though neither of them found it funny. “It wouldn’t be so bad in a shorter time period, but we haven’t brushed each other in years, you know?” He exhaled with a hint of sadness. “It was a lot of pain and fear to experience in the span of few seconds.” 

“Yeah. It was.” They got quiet again for a bit. Tweek started to fuss with one of the cases of pastries— and suddenly Kenny was getting a donut shoved passive-aggressively into his hands. 

“Here. You don’t look like you’re eating well,” he muttered. Kenny barely muffled a snort; Tweek was one to talk about not eating enough. “So just. Take it, okay?” He turned back to his machines and started fiddling with one. Kenny took a tentative bite of the glazed donut, a noise of approval escaping him as it wasn’t overly, intensely sweet. “Pretty good, huh?” Tweek asked. It didn’t sound particularly smug or anything, mostly just acknowledgment of something he knew as fact.

“Yeah, actually. I know you used to bake in school. You took home-ec with me,” Kenny said, remembering it suddenly with the way all fuzzy, unimportant memories seemed to just appear. “You were fantastic at the sewing stuff, too.”

“Not the sewing. They banned me from the machine because I twitched and sewed my finger to the fabric in the first week,” Tweek reminded. “I mostly knit and crocheted and did some cross-stitch, y’know?” He shrugged. “There’s a big difference. The knitting was the most fun because it was a lot easier to redo it if I started to shake too badly or tic. I still do it sometimes.” Tweek shut up quickly after that, turning away, and Kenny figured he hadn’t meant to let that last part slip out. 

A few customers came in at lunch, and Kenny distanced himself by sitting at a stool on the bar and just observing Tweek handle it all like he was built to. It didn’t particularly  _ surprise  _ him, admittedly, as Tweek had been running this shop half to most of the time from 3rd grade on— but. It was neat to see how he’d utterly fulfilled his role and effortlessly settled into managing his family business, the storefront bearing his name. After the lunch rush, Kenny still lingered, sometimes idly scrolling Facebook, checking the weather, playing candy crush, or sometimes simply staring at Tweek gracefully handling his workload in a sort of dance he clearly knew all the steps to. 

On a whim, Kenny checked Yelp. The oldest review was from years back, when they were just kids still, and mentioned the coffee tasting funny. There was a significant gap in time, then all of the newest were nothing but positives. He found himself engrossed skimming through them when he was suddenly startled by Tweek appearing.

“I really wish you’d fucking leave ,” he said. Then he set a fresh cup of coffee in front of Kenny and walked off. Kenny hid his smile into the rim of the mug as he took a sip. It was the same amount of sugar and milk the first one had had. Obviously, Tweek had watched how much Kenny had put into it previously. It tasted just as good too. Kenny still lingered on past that, through the dinner rush too. His collection of mugs grew, as did the tips he set to the side, stacking up quickly with Tweek deliberately ignoring it every time he passed the money. 

Finally, it was closing time. Kenny stretched his legs and then took a leak before returning to a now-empty and very clean area, Tweek avoiding looking at him like he might turn him to stone if they locked eyes. He watched, quiet but very much present, as Tweek proceeded to take what might be the world record for the slowest time ever mopping up. After that, he busied himself with obscure tasks like making sure all the sugar packets in each table ramiken were facing the same way. After that, he’d run out of things to do.

Tweek sighed, heavy and loud, and finally faced Kenny. “You need to leave,” he ordered firmly, but he couldn’t meet Kenny’s eyes, staring at his forehead instead with a determined slant to his face. “Don’t follow me to my house. Don’t be here tomorrow. Leave town, actually. That’d be best for you. South Park isn’t a good place, but you already know that.” He seemed exhausted but satisfied after his little speech, dipping his head politely and opening the door to let Kenny out, key already in hand to lock up.

“No,” Kenny said simply. Tweek sagged.

“Please?” he asked, voice fragile. “Please? Just go.” Tweek sighed and fidgeted with the door.

“No. At least hear me out. If you really can’t help me? So be it, okay. But let me pitch it,” Kenny implored. 

“I already know what you’re going to say! You want—“

“No,” Kenny interrupted. “Let me say my piece, all of it. Let me lay it all out on the table. And then you can decide, not before.” He smiled a little. “Or I’ll be here all week until you do. Your choice, darling.”

“Don’t call me that,” Tweek snapped, stepping out the door and immediately pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit up, cherry glowing ember orange in the dark night. After a deep drag, Tweek breathed out a thin stream of smoke and tapped his ash out. “Fine. I’ll give you your one shot. I’m not gonna be able to do shit, but fine.” He took another puff. Kenny watched soberly before sticking his hand out. 

“Can I bum one?”

“Yeah, here.” They traded for a moment, and Tweek handed him the lighter next, watching Kenny join him in smoking.

“That’ll kill you, you know,” Tweek told him, eyes glinting. Kenny laughed and then took a deep drag.

“You think?”

“I know so,” Tweek snorted, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily. “You can follow me back to my house. I’ll let you in. You get twenty minutes and then I’d be planning your best route home to wherever you live now tomorrow.” He dropped the butt and stubbed it out. “C’mon.” Tweek got in his little jeep and immediately started it up, pulling away before Kenny could even finish his own cigarette. After a few moments of staring after the fading tail lights, he put out the smoke, and followed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh these boys of mine

Tweek was already inside by the time Kenny pulled up. He’d had to practically sprint back to the hotel after remembering he’d walked, not driven, to the coffee shop, and then struggle to remember how to get to Tweek’s little cottage in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t on google maps— did that surprise him? not even slightly— and everything looked so different at night compared to the day. Too many shadows and strangely-shaped objects. 

Finally, Kenny made it, parking beside Tweek and immediately hopping out with a low groan. He stretched luxuriously and cautiously approached the door. There was artificial, yellow light spilling from behind all the curtains, lighting up the porch just enough to where he could semi-see. “Tweek?” he asked, rapping politely on the door. After a moment, it slowly cracked open.

“Come in,” Tweek said begrudgingly, hovering in the entrance and eyeing Kenny like he was wary he’d brought somebody with him. He swung the door open finally and backed up with a little harrumph. Kenny let himself in and immediately went for the living room, greedily glancing around and taking it all in. Tweek almost looked like he wanted to cover everything with sheets and was barely muffling the urge, and he twitched when Kenny beelined for the couch.

There was stuff everywhere. It was clean, besides dust and cobwebs in the hard to reach corners, but the clutter was almost unbelievable. CDs, books, boxes of papers, pens and pencils, clothes, everything. Just all manners of  _ things  _ dominated the space. Haphazardly stacked, looking somewhat sorted, but still taking up far too much space. There was a tv, a sofa, a coffee table littered with empty mugs that said somebody had taken its name a bit too seriously, and a small row of succulents and mini cacti adorning the window like a little, spiky fence. They were bright green and very alive, in contrast to the empty dirt pots and severely wilted fern littered among the stacks of possessions. 

“Stop staring,” Tweek snapped. “It’s rude. Can I get you something to dri— don’t touch anything!” he yelped as Kenny picked up a tiny red car from one of the bookshelves that housed everything  _ except  _ books. “Put it back! Now!” Tweek yanked it out of his hands and protectively hid it against his chest, glaring at Kenny. “Who touches shit like that? Are you, hh, five years old?”

“No, just curious,” Kenny answered his rhetorical question with a shrug and easy grin. Tweek was less than impressed, gingerly setting the car back in its spot and heading for the kitchen with a tired sigh.

“Take off your boots. Just because you were raised in a barn doesn’t mean you can tromp mud through my entire house,” Tweek called back, disappearing into the hallway. Kenny clumsily kicked them off and followed Tweek, shivering a little.

“Why don’t you have the heat on? It’s mid-October,” he sighed plaintively, tugging his parka’s zipper up to fully enclose him in its warmth. “Most everybody out here turns theirs on by the end of September.” Tweek glanced back, flicking on the kitchen lights and lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“I don’t get cold easily and it’s easier to see a ghost or spiritual presence when it’s freezing. They— uh. They have kinda like?” Tweek made a little frustrated  _ tch _ sound. “Kinda like a water vapor or steam that comes off them? Not a lot. But it helps. It’s hard to describe.” He hunched his shoulders self-consciously and went to brew a pot of coffee. 

The kitchen was just as cluttered as the living room, full of all sorts of odds and ends, from power tools laying across the unused stove to a wall that was made up entirely of clocks. After a brief, shocked look, he counted 17 of them. They ranged in size as well as theme, the most fun being a pineapple and the absolute creepiest thing Kenny had seen in years a fat, smug cat with eyes and a tail that ticked back and forth in rhythm. It sent a shiver of utter dread down his spine that coalesced into a disgustingly heavy  _ eugh  _ that sat on his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Kenny viscerally hated it with every fiber of his body instantaneously, and immediately vowed to get it out of Tweek’s house if given the slightest opportunity. 

“Do you like my clock?” Tweek piped up suddenly, hiding his face by focusing on pouring grounds into the filter. “Her name is Watcher. She’s my favorite because she’s the best at seeing ghosts.” He looked over at the clock fondly, a faint tilt tugging his mouth before he busied himself with getting the water ready. Shit. Kenny eyed it with a sinking feeling and mild disappointment. Guess the evil cat was staying after all; it made Tweek smile. He wouldn’t dare take it away now.

“It’s… interestin’,” Kenny said at last. “Why so many?” he broached cautiously. Tweek watched the coffee begin to brew for a moment, eyes following the steady brown drip.

“It started with 3, ‘cos if all 3 go out at once I’ll know a ghost is fucking with my timeline— or trying to. 1 is potential coincidence, 2 is unlikely but maybe, 3 is, yeah, no, something supernatural. And then I just wanted more. There’s never enough time,” Tweek sighed, frowning as he pulled out a few mugs from one of his kitchen drawers and immediately poured them both a steaming cup of joe. Kenny didn’t have the heart (or balls) to tell him no thank you. He accepted his mug and blew at it delicately, watching with mild concern as Tweek gulped at it like he genuinely didn’t notice it was near boiling. Jesus.

“So.” Tweek fixed him with a hard stare and Kenny struggled not to wilt under its withering displeasure. “What the fuck do you want from me? Why are you here, in my house, gh, after having dogged me all damn day in my shop, drinking my good coffee, and begging for my out-of-order services. Talk.  _ Now.” _

Kenny took a deep breath and released it with a quiet groan. “You already know most of it. Well. Kind of all of it. There’s something… wrong with me. I think there has been since I was born. You know my parents screwed around with the Cthulhu cult shit, yeah? This whole town is just straight fucked.” Kenny fidgeted for a moment under Tweek’s knowing eyes. “There’s a little more though? I’ve been lingering for longer times as a ghost after dying recently.” 

Tweek frowned at that. “Really? I think you usually didn’t as a kid, except that whole Cartman possession time.” Kenny nodded.

“Yeah, it didn’t used to happen often at all but now it’s with almost every death. The whole curse in general has kinda gone a bit wonky? I don’t think my mom gives birth to me anymore, like she used to, and she hasn’t been for awhile. I don’t know if the curse is mutating or what, but. I wake up wherever I last slept. Once I popped up on a fucking bench where I had napped.” Kenny scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed tiredly. “I never thought I’d get used to dying, but I did, and now that things are changing I’m nervous.”

“I mean, that’s a bit understandable. People can get used to many, many things. The bullshit tolerance is outrageous,” Tweek laughed a bit, looking tired and a little contemplative. After a moment, he glanced up at Kenny and nervously chewed his bottom lip. “Do you… Do you think that stuff is going to start happening again? I usually do my absolute best to ignore anything spiritual anymore— although god that shit hardly works— but lately.” Tweek twitched just thinking about it. “The presences have been a lot more numerous and hostile. I can’t help but wonder if something is stirring them up and irritating them.”

Kenny was silent as he watched Tweek hunch in on himself briefly, squeezing his mug and sighing as he took a sip to settle himself. After a few moments, Tweek looked up again, expression set in displeasure. Kenny gulped.

“Listen. I really don’t want to help you. I’m sorry, I truly am for once in my fucking, hgh, life. But if the spirits are already stirring up  _ before  _ you got back, I don’t want to see them after, when you’re going around deliberately winding ‘em up.” Tweek snorted a little, self-deprecating laugh. “My life is as boring as I can get it at the moment and you’ll shake it up like a fucking snowglobe. And I really just don’t want to deal with it. Try somebody else. They can help you with the whole heroism act.”

“Tweek,” Kenny said softly, the name carefully rolled around his mouth and delicate as melting sugar on his tongue. Tweek flinched. “You don’t think I haven’t tried? Do you really think I  _ wanted  _ to drag my sorry ass carcass back here? To deal with you?” Tweek smiled a little at that, but it wasn’t a particularly happy one. 

“I know. I’m a real handful of crazy. Always have been, huh?” Tweek forced a laugh. Kenny instantly shook his head, furious that what he’d meant to say had gotten so twisted.

“That’s not what I meant—“

“Anyway,” Tweek interrupted abruptly, clearly unwilling to hear Kenny try to salvage the mess he’d inadvertently created by shoving his foot in his mouth. “I can’t and I won’t be assisting you. I’d honestly just suggest you leave town altogether and maybe seek out somebody else, yeah?” He stared down into the contents of his mug like he hoped it would tell him what to say next.

“You really won’t help me?” Kenny asked quietly. Tweek tightened his jaw. “I know that girl died and you’ve been avoiding spiritual shit since—“

“Did you know that the reason she died is because of me?” Tweek interjected, voice taut. “I told her not to eat anything They give you, because it’ll never end well. She’d done it twice before with very similar outcomes. I had to wrestle these awful, thorny branches out of her throat and she’d be so grateful afterwards.” His knuckles whitened on the handle of his cup. “I guess she slipped up and did it a third time. I’d told her I was getting pretty tired of fighting fucking, nn, plants out of her belly. So instead of coming back, she waited. Out of embarrassment, mortification, I don’t know— because I’d scolded and teased her.” 

A heavy, heavy exhale. Kenny blinked, too intimidated to ask who They were. He was pretty sure he knew anyway. The shadowy, too beautiful, kinda scary people that glittered on the edges of crowds and deserted streets. Inhuman. Deadly.

“She died. She died a horrible, suffocating death because of me. I closed up immediately after. The police had the fucking audacity to question me. They’re convinced there’s some weird plant serial killer out there now. Fucking  _ idiots  _ that they are,” Tweek hissed, scowling at the table. He shook his head again, clearly irritated. “I was done after that. I’m done. I’m gonna continue trying to keep my little, shitty life as normal as possible, and you, undead extraordinaire that you are… are nothing but trouble, Kenneth McCormick.”

“That’s not true,” Kenny attempted to argue, albeit weakly. Tweek smirked at him wryly. His flimsy arguments died on his tongue and he swallowed them back down, acrid and bitter. He sighed and took a still scalding sip of coffee. At least that tasted better than disappointment. 

“You know it is. So. I’ll let you finish your coffee, get yourself in order, then you’re driving right back to your hotel. My best suggestion is check out first thing tomorrow morning, get the fuck out of dodge, and never come back,” Tweek said faux cheerfully. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”

“Thanks, babe,” Kenny told him sarcastically. Tweek immediately twitched in displeasure.

“Stop calling me pet names,” he insisted, flushing as he scowled at Kenny. Kenny shrugged with one shoulder, offering a big, toothy smile. “Oh, fuck off then,” Tweek hissed, finishing his coffee and getting up to put his empty mug in the sink. He took Kenny’s too, despite the fact it was still half-full; Kenny figured out pretty quickly that meant he’d outstayed his welcome. 

“Alright, alright, ‘m going,” Kenny yawned, getting up and stretching until his back cracked. Tweek watched him with judgemental eyes, a little huffy as Kenny padded into the hall and started tugging his boots on. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, sweetheart.”

“What did I just say?” Tweek sighed, pinching aggressively at the bridge of his nose. Kenny muffled a laugh as he finally managed to get his shoes back on. He pulled out his car keys, quickly checked that he had his phone, then awkwardly lingered at the door for a moment, watching Tweek a bit expectantly. Unsurprisingly to quite literally anybody, this made Tweek nervous in the span of 5 seconds. 

“Stop hyperventilating,” Kenny said firmly. Tweek glared. After a brief standoff in which neither gave an inch, it broke when Tweek unexpectedly looked away. 

“Goodbye, Kenny,” Tweek sighed. “I do hope you can find some help, but. Not here. Definitely not here.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, nervously bouncing on his heels a bit as Kenny painfully slowly meandered out the door to his truck. “Take care. Try and stay safe.” 

Dramatic as ever, Kenny returned with: “I have absolutely no say in the matter.” Tweek made a noise of frustration and jerked one shoulder into a half-shrug.

“Then fucking die, Kenny, Jesus Christ.” He muffled his laughter to that all the way back to his truck. After Kenny climbed in, he sat for a moment, shivering slightly but unwilling to break the silence of the night for a moment. It was so quiet, Tweek contemplatively standing on his little porch and looking so small and tired in the harsh, silhouette-throwing light. Sighing quietly, Kenny started Bessie up and slowly pulled out, driving back towards his hotel with a final glance out the rear view to see Tweek watching him go. 

Truthfully, Kenny thought that was the end of that, concise, simple, and utterly finished with. He’d have to maybe seek out other countries, or live with the solemn knowledge he’d either live in abject misery and pain as an old man dying daily but always being reincarnated slightly older, or become a ghost forever, doomed to be trapped in this world but not fully interacting. Neither option particularly pleased him. To be fair, they were both pretty shit.

He sat on his crisp, starchy hotel sheets in the dark for quite a few minutes, in nothing but his favorite sleep pants, the curtains open so the moon could spill what little light it had into the room like a white candle with melted wax. The night had not at all gone according to plan. Kenny knew Tweek wasn’t going to be easy to get on his side and assisting him, but he’d never assumed Tweek would be so averse to helping him. Still, Kenny had gotten his shot to explain things, and he’d been turned down. He could respect Tweek’s very vocal wishes about this.

He’d be leaving first thing in the morning.

6am found him tired but awake, freshly-showered with still damp hair and a bagel clamped in between his teeth as he fussed with his suitcase and checked out. Kenny immediately loaded his truck and got in, quietly groaning as he stared at the wheel before starting the car up. He decided to take the long way out of South Park, unable to resist a final look at Tweek Bros. It would sting, undoubtedly, but it was worth a brief check-in. 

He pulled out onto main and before he could even turn down the street where the shop was, his stomach dropped. Something was wrong. Very,  _ very  _ wrong. Kenny slowed down as he rounded the corner, breathing out a short, sharp inhale when his gut feeling was confirmed. 

Tweek Bros. was burning. 

Big, flickering flames engulfed the building, roaring merrily and brushing off any attempt to put it out the fire brigade threw at it. It was swiftly, greedily consuming the shop, the middle caving and starting to collapse as the firefighters did their absolute best to make sure it didn’t spread anywhere else. It was clear the café had been declared a lost cause. The sun was almost over the horizon by then, the sky a myriad of pinks and purples that clashed and melded with the glowing orange of the raging fire. 

Among the chaos and hubbub, from the barely-in-check blaze to the firefighters swarming around like ants— there was somebody utterly still. A silhouette stood behind the makeshift safety line, unbearably small and fragile as the flames cast dancing shadows. Kenny’s stomach dropped with a sickening lurch and he was pulling up behind the firetruck and a familiar jeep. He stumbled out of the car, staring at Tweek’s shivering form, head tilted up and watching fire destroy everything he’d built up for himself once already.

“Tweek,” Kenny said, floundering a bit helplessly. He wasn’t sure what other words to offer. “Tweek,” he repeated more softly. Tweek slowly turned to look at him, overly calm and almost dream-like even as his eyes flickered with too many emotions, a bunch of minnows in a shallow pond. Kenny tentatively stepped forward as Tweek protectively curled his arms around his middle and edged backwards. Kenny swallowed. “Are you okay?”

“It’s… it’s all gone,” he said quietly, blinking back at the inferno like he was almost puzzled. “Everything. There’s going to be nothing left but ashes.” He started to breathe heavy and fast, the false façade of calm beginning to crack. “It's all gone. Everything I’ve worked for— for years. It’s all gone! It’s all fucking gone!” Tweek started to rip at his hair frantically, tugging fistfuls and panting like a wild animal. Kenny put his arms up and carefully stepped forwards, aiming for non-threatening and calm. Didn’t work too well, since Tweek’s darting eyes settled on him and narrowed immediately in accusation.

“Tweek—“ Kenny attempted to stop the train from flying off the rails, but was already far,  _ far  _ too late.

“This is your fault,” Tweek hissed, lip curled in a snarl caught between fury and utter, primal panic. “This happens right after, gh, I let you into my fucking house. I should’ve kicked you out the second you set foot in my goddamn store!” An anguished sound ripped from his chest and he glanced back at the fire, which had reached maximum blazing and then further, the flames dying down as it ate up every last piece and left nothing but burnt ashes. “My store,” Tweek choked out, hands shaking as he hunched into himself defiantly. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Kenny offered feebly, cringing at his own words. Tweek snorted derisively, almost hysterical.

“Nothing is going to be okay, ever again! Nothing! It’s all gone to shit! I should’ve just died in there!” Tweek spat out, gesturing aggressively at the smoldering wreckage that  _ was  _ Tweek Bros. this morning. “I should’ve laid down and just accepted my fate,” he laughed bitterly, hyperventilating starting up again as he stared sightlessly into the morning, the street finally beginning to stir awake for the day.

“That’s not true,” Kenny said, looking at him dead-on as Tweek commenced with his quite honestly well deserved breakdown. After pacing around and screaming intermittently for a few minutes, Kenny trying (and failing) to help him calm down, he faded slowly into exhaustion. Tweek began rocking back and forth on his feet, staring at the firefighters as they started to win against the flames, dousing it out slowly and strategically. It was definitely too late to salvage anything, the store a pile of burnt wood and random, half-destroyed furniture and appliances. Tweek sighed thickly when they officially declared it safe and no longer burning.

“It’s out. I’m terribly sorry there wasn’t more we could do,” the chief explained to Tweek. “We just do damage control. We’re no miracle workers.” Kenny awkwardly faded into the background for a minute, not wanting to intrude on their conversation. He hovered by his truck and pretended he wasn’t watching Tweek twitch and shiver his way through the conversation. Finally, they seemed to wrap it up, the chief nodding at his paperwork before heading back to the rest of the firefighters.

Tweek thanked the crew raggedly and then retreated mentally, staring in blank disassociation at his ruined café while slowly rubbing at his crossed arms. Kenny let him have a few moments before interrupting. 

“What did he say?” Kenny asked. Tweek exhaled shakily, fingers digging bitten, half-moon nails into his palm.

“They’re calling it an accident,” he said tightly. “They traced it back to one of the machines.” Tweek twitched, exhaling heavily. “Said it looked like one the wires frayed and started the blaze. Happens all the time in old buildings.” His jaw twitched as he looked up at the rising sun. “Makes sense. Or, it would— if I hadn’t had those machines replaced and everything rewired throughout the store 6 months ago.” Tweek looked down abruptly, meeting Kenny’s worried gaze.

“Was it— a spirit?” Kenny asked with a barely hidden wince.

“I thought maybe so,” Tweek said, dangerously quiet. “But ghosts don’t leave footprints.” Kenny jerked up in surprise at this, eyes widening. “They were tracked in the back room this morning. I was just checking the safe to make sure nothing was stolen when the smoke alarm went off.” He tilted his face into the meek daylight, face twisted into anger and regret. “I didn’t tell them.” A swift nod toward the firetruck. “They can’t help and the police will just bungle it up even more. But now everything is gone. And  _ somebody  _ did it on purpose.”

His shoulders dipped and he dropped his head, curling in and briefly rubbing at his face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he whispered shakily. 

“Surely— insurance?” Kenny asked awkwardly. Tweek glared up at him and Kenny cleared his throat.

“Yes, let me get everything back together so they can just burn it down again,” Tweek snapped. “I have no clue who’s done this. And I can’t chance it happening again. My income is, hh, stalled. This has ruined everything.” He looked back over bleakly at the burned-down building. “Everything, Kenny. What the fuck am I going to do?” Seized by inspiration, Kenny carefully touched his shoulder, shrinking back as Tweek flinched from his light tap.

“If you promise to help me I’ll pay you. Whatever you were making,” Kenny implored. “And we can catch whoever did this— hire an investigator or something, yeah? Like a contractor situation. We can make a signed agreement and get it notarized if you want.” Tweek stared at him dubiously. 

“Anything the government can see makes me nervous. How could you possibly afford that, anyhow? I  _ was _ doing very well for myself,” Tweek laughed bitterly, smile brittle. Kenny shrugged a bit sheepishly.

“It started with the oilfield and then switched around. Life insurance now. I make a killing on life insurance,” Kenny joked weakly. Tweek at first just gave him a blank look, but he was suddenly hardly muffling a snort, the faintest hint of a smile hovering around his mouth.

“Well. Good on you, I guess. Most insurance is a big, fucking scam, man.” Tweek told him darkly. “Even the one I use for the shop won’t cover any of my out-of-work time, just the actual items.” He shook his head, suddenly, scowling again. “But I’m not so sure I want to further involve myself with you. It’s no, gh, coincidence this happened right after you showed up. I don’t believe in coincidences, or irony.” This didn’t surprise Kenny very much at all.

“That’s fair. I’m just saying. It’s an offer,” Kenny hummed, shrugging loosely and putting on an easy smile, concealing the fact his heart was pounding in his throat. Tweek might help him. He might finally be done with this curse. His hands trembled, so he blamed it on the blustery morning and shoved them in his pockets cheerfully.

“I’ll think about it. Maybe,” Tweek grunted, running his fingers through his hair and leaving it sticking up in a messy, lion’s mane sort of way. He was haggard, and clearly tired and emotionally drained, but he was no longer ticcing; Kenny counted that as a win. 

“How about I give you my number?” Kenny started absentmindedly, quizzical as Tweek flushed slightly, staring at Kenny in confused, almost embarrassed silence.  _ Oh.  _ “Uh. So you can let me know if you’ll accept the deal,” he clarified, smirking a little. Tweek’s blush darkened and he turned away to yank his hoodie on, muttering something about ‘of course that was the reason’. He pulled his phone from his pocket and thrust it into Kenny’s hands with a humph. Easygoing as ever, Kenny typed his number in and titled it  _ McCordick <3\.  _

“I’ll let you have a day or so, yeah? Get some rest. Think about it,” Kenny told him as he passed the phone back. He was just climbing back into Bessie, resigned to going back and make a brand new reservation at his hotel, when Tweek discovered his new phone nickname.

“Seriously? Are you 12?” Tweek growled, flipping Kenny off in a nasty habit he’d never shaken after dating Craig. Kenny just laughed as he pulled away, waving his own goodbye. 

It was back to the same damn hotel after that, Kenny sighing sheepishly as the clerk blinked in an unimpressed way at his re-check in. He settled his meager belongings back in their places and lay on the bed for over an hour, staring at the ceiling and listening to the very quiet hum of the heater, the room otherwise silent. Then he rolled off the mattress and fixed his hair up, checked his clothes were okay, and went to the bar.

Walking in to the familiar smell of cheap liquor and peanuts was nothing new, and it brought of wave of nostalgia so strong he stopped short. Kenny could remember drinking his first beer out back, Cartman having easily bribed their way to underage alcohol. He remembered how Stan puked on his own shoes, and Kyle got so wasted he started ranting at a street lamp. He remembered stumbling just wrong on his walk home and falling down a ravine to die a slow, bloody death at the bottom. He remembered waking up the next morning in bed, as always, and the only thing the gang recalling was getting stupid drunk. Stan and Kyle’s first (but not last) wasted confession of mutual pining was the thing that stuck in their minds, not Kenny dying for the 5th time that week with blood bubbling out of his mouth and his leg twisted in a way it never should’ve. 

Kenny sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. 

Several hours and several beers later, he was pleasantly buzzed and ready to go. A few women had tried to get his attention, unsuccessfully, throughout the night, but Kenny wasn’t in the mood, too nervous and excited about Tweek potentially agreeing to help him. He brushed them off with a friendly smile and made his solo way to the door after paying his tab, ambling out into the night and deciding to walk back. Driving drunk was never worth it. He’d learned that the hard way, a few times and a couple deaths later. 

He had just set out to cross the road when a sudden set of headlights came out of nowhere. Kenny didn’t even brace; he’d long since learned to just let it happen, a rolling wave almost like an orgasm of anguish. Death was just as explosive, and sudden, and forceful— but far less enjoyable. The car struck him down and he was dead before he fully hit the ground, thanking his lucky stars it wasn’t a slow one this time. They were the worst. And, well. No hangover, at least.

The feeling of his soul detaching from his body was always particular and vaguely uncomfortable, like a piece of Velcro being torn apart. He slipped free and immediately let himself rise above the scene, not surprised but still not pleased when the car didn’t even bother to stop. Kenny watched its headlights fade off down the road with a scowl. Fucking pricks. After a brief period of resettling himself, he decided the absolute best way to spend his time as a non-corporeal spirit was to go scare the shit out of Tweek. He was so spooked all the time; his reaction to jumpscares was probably hilarious.

The house was dark and quiet when Kenny finally made it there, carefully sneaking in through the door— and yes, going  _ through  _ objects did feel very strange— and heading back towards the hall where he was fairly certain the bedroom was. Before he could get there, a quiet noise caught his attention. Kenny turned in surprise to see a huge bird staring at him. He wasn’t the best with avian species, but he was 75% sure it was a cockatoo, white with a huge crest and beady, little eyes. It stirred and flapped its wings a few times, head tilting this way and that as it stared right at Kenny. 

This didn’t particularly shock him. Animals always seemed to have a sixth sense. The fact the bird wasn’t freaking out? Now that intrigued him a little. The cockatoo made another soft sound, clicked its beak, then suddenly took off, flying right through him as it flapped its way into the kitchen. Kenny shuddered at the sensation of feathers and then couldn’t resist following it, trailing behind curiously. He was just fine for a moment, then was overcome by a horrible, terrible feeling of being watched. Like there were eyes all around, staring, pinning him in place with vicious claws, taking in every last minute detail with freakish accuracy. 

Kenny froze in shock, unable to breathe or move, rooted to his place as his phantom heart pounded. The light abruptly flicked on in the kitchen, the bird settled on a tall stand by the switch and clacking its beak in a vague approximation of what Kenny was fairly sure was amusement. 

“Thank you for getting the lights, Pandora. Good girl,” came Tweek’s voice from the left, along with poorly-muffled giggles. Kenny watched as he walked into view, wearing nothing but a pair of sleep pants. For such a scrawny kid, he had a nice chest. Tweek reached out and let the cockatoo climb onto his wrist before gently stroking Pandora’s crest and cooing, expression soft. The cockatoo started preening instantly, and Tweek set her on his shoulder before focusing in on the wall. Kenny observed it all, still frozen. 

He pulled a chair up and climbed up, Pandora letting out an indignant grunt as she was disturbed. He ignored her, reaching up for his ugly, smug cat clock, which had stopped mid-tick, plastic eyes locked on Kenny. Tweek fiddled with it for a moment, then the ticking resumed— and suddenly Kenny could fucking breathe again. Tweek patted the cheaply made clock and then reached up on tip-toe to stick it back on its rung.

“I told you Watcher did a good job,” Tweek said simply, getting down off the chair as Pandora whistled a few times in agreement. “Now. Why are you in my kitchen as a ghost at… 3am?” Tweek asked, propping his hip against the counter and arching a brow. Kenny hummed, shrugging.

“Mostly wanted to scare you,” he admitted. Tweek laughed at that, tired but genuine.

“You’re much more likely to find me asleep at 5pm than any am time, Kenny,” Tweek sighed, pulling a pot of still-warm coffee off the machine and pouring a new mug. “I’m an insomniac. Always have been. You, gh, know this, buddy.”

“Wasn’t thinking,” Kenny said slowly, humming softly. “So you can see and hear me, obviously. That's neat. I like your bird.” Pandora’s head tilted at the word bird, and she chirped feebly.

“She doesn’t seem to hate you, which is very unlike her,” Tweek said with a grumpy eyebrow frown. “She’s very selective. She usually bites all my houseguests but dotes on me. She almost never likes ghosts… guess you’re special.” He took a sip from his cup. “Anyway. Since you’re here.” Tweek took another drink, almost stalling, and Kenny waited anxiously, hands twisting nervously. 

“Yeah?” he asked, unable to help sounding hopeful. 

“I… I’ve decided,” Tweek said, a little faltering. “I will help you. Now— I need that contract. Both of us to sign it. It’ll be a lot of experimental exploration and research and you have to swear to help me find who burned down Tweek Bros. I’m pretty fucking sure they’re connected. It might get pretty dangerous and I make… no promises. Got some very important ground rules to go over and some other stuff like that… but, uh. I’ll do it.” He fidgeted restlessly, Pandora starting to nibble on his red ears. Kenny strode over and almost tried to hug him, he was so touched. Luckily for both of them, he just phased right through Tweek instead, which made both of them gasp.

“Sorry,” Kenny apologized quickly at the disgruntled look on Tweek’s face. “Just. Thank you. Seriously. Thank you, anything you need. You got it.” He was going to have the top curse-breaker in the states on his side against the oddities haunting him since birth— and, for once, he liked his chances. 

“It’s nothing,” Tweek grunted, but his cheeks were pink as he turned away and started fussing with a treat for Pandora, conjured out of a messy junk drawer. Kenny smiled at him, nothing dampening his mood. “Now…”

“Yes?”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“You got it.” 

He woke up at 9am in his hotel bed, a little groggy but mostly fine considering he’d been killed by a hit and run the night before. Kenny lay there a moment, unable to resist a bit of a smile at the ceiling. Maybe, just maybe… he wouldn’t have to deal with shit too many more times now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a beta is COMING i just got so excited i had to post this for mara,,,


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i would die for big fat mom friend henrietta

Tweek left him alone for a full 24 hours and then some, prompting Kenny to start to worry if he’d only agreed so he had time to skip town. It was just sneaky enough of him to do, especially since the shop was no longer tying him down here. Luckily, after Kenny had just started debating whether driving to his house unannounced was worth it or not— Tweek finally called him. 

“I hate phone calls,” was how he said hello. “Come to my house, I’ve got everything sorted. Bring an overnight bag, I already have our first point of interest and it’s sort of far.” Then he hung up. Kenny was left staring at his phone with furrowed brows. After a moment, he gathered his meager belongings and left, heading to his truck after checking out. He had a feeling this hotel was going to to get tired of his in and out routine, but oh well. 

The drive was easy in the daylight, since it was around 4pm, and Kenny soon pulled up and parked beside Tweek. He hopped out and headed for the door, ducking with a surprised noise as Pandora came swooping out of nowhere and landed on his shoulder. He carefully offered her his fingers, which she nibbled affectionately before pulling them over to pet her. She preened as Kenny carefully stroked her soft feathers. What a fun little bird. Tweek said she hated visitors but she seemed to like him well enough as he carried her in through the door.

“Tweek?” he called out softly. A startled noise came from the living room, accompanied by a small crash. Kenny cautiously approached, Pandora settling herself on his parka hood, playing with the faux fur. He just hoped she wouldn’t rip it out.

“Gah! Shit, okay,” Tweek suddenly piped up, emerging behind a stack of junk taller than him. He practically marched up to Kenny, sparing his bird a frosty glance, then brandished a huge stack of papers at him like a weapon. Kenny blinked and took it from him.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at it with his head tilted.

“I rushed to get it together, but after going over it with my lawyer briefly— it’s pretty solid. I, ah, I drafted the contract. 65 pages,” Tweek hummed, nodding decisively. “After revisions. It was 89. But 65 is much more manageable, yeah?” Tweek backed up a couple paces and grabbed a mug off his messy coffee table. He took a sip as Kenny scanned the first few lines. Shrugging, he grabbed a pen from the many scattered across the surface of the stand, ran through to the end of the packet like it was a flipbook, and signed his name and the date on the solid line.

Tweek gaped. 

“Kenneth McCormick! You didn’t— you didn’t read it at all! Kenny! What the fuck?!” He stared at his signature, blinking a few times like he wasn’t sure it was real. Helpfully, Kenny put the packet of paper into his hands and then sat down on the couch, which was the only piece of furniture in the living room not covered with something. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and watched Tweek start to freak out with mild apprehensiveness.

“What’s the matter? I signed it,” Kenny said softly, looking at Tweek with a faint knot to his brow. “Isn’t that what you needed?”

“You just signed it! I could’ve written anything in there, Kenny!” Tweek huffed, starting to pace and hyperventilate a little as he clutched the contract in one hand and the mug in the other. “Literally anything! You should always go over such important, ghh, papers with a fine-tooth comb.” He paused and whirled on Kenny, frowning. “For fuck’s sake, I could’ve written something like,  _ Kenny has to be my sex slave for 5 years,  _ dickhead.”

Kenny hummed contemplatively and dragged his eyes slowly up Tweek’s lithe body, hiding a little grin at the absolutely offended and disgruntled look he got in return. “That wouldn’t be so bad at all, darling. I’d be very satisfactory, I assure you.”

Tweek bit back what Kenny was sure was an instant retort, swallowing tightly as his cheeks flushed and he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in then heaved it out, glaring at Kenny. “No petnames, we’ve been over this. Also— I’m way too much for you to handle, don’t flatter yourself so much,” he added defiantly. Kenny couldn’t help his smile now, taken by pleased surprise that Tweek actually returned the banter. 

Before he could respond, Tweek started ripping up the contract into a bunch of tiny pieces. Pandora screamed in excitement (almost breaking Kenny’s eardrum) and immediately flew over to her owner to help destroy the packet. Soon, torn, fuzzy-edged pieces of paper littered the floor. Pandora clacked her beak once in contentment, then flew into the kitchen. Tweek sighed, staring at the mess. 

“Well. Fuck that, I guess.” He shrugged, trying to seem relaxed, but his right eye was ticcing. Kenny watched it quietly, pretty sure saying anything at all would just make it worse. “It’s alright. Are you ready then? Go bag and all?” Tweek asked, forcefully changing the subject with the charm and grace of a rampaging elephant. It suited him.

“Sure did, sweetcheeks,” Kenny said, Tweek offering him an absolutely Done look in reply. He flashed a charming smile and Tweek immediately blushed, pushing past him with a grumble before beelining for the kitchen. Kenny groaned as he heaved himself upright to follow, watching from the doorway as Tweek left out some bird food and changed Pandora’s water. 

“Alright, I’m ready— how about you?” Tweek checked, glancing at his wall of clocks pensively. Kenny did a quick runthrough of his own supplies, then nodded confidently.

“I’m all good, honey,” Kenny reassured him. Tweek’s back stiffened at that and he immediately snapped.

“That nickname isn’t for you,” he half-snarled. “Don’t use it,” Tweek ordered, actually sounding firm and angry for once. Kenny immediately quieted. Oops. Tweek twitched and grabbed his own backpack, slinging it over his shoulder with a pissed-off  _ tch  _ before heading outside. Kenny swallowed, exhaled heavily, then followed.

“So what was the clue? Where are we going? I’m honestly surprised you already found something,” Kenny admitted, hoping they could leave the awkwardness behind, firmly locked in Tweek’s stuffy, cluttered cottage. Tweek glanced back at him and he barely resisted the urge to freeze like he had with Watcher. Talk about a loaded fucking gaze. He shrank away from it a little, waiting nervously— before Tweek blinked and turned away, locking the door.

“I have connections. I’m good at what I do,” Tweek said coolly. “There’s a reason you sought me out, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” Kenny answered, going down the porch steps and pausing by their cars. “That’s not really an answer though, now is it?” He nodded at his truck. “You driving?”

“Oh fuck no, I hate, gh, driving! You are. Even if it’s in that ugly, fucking truck,” Tweek muttered, glaring at Kenny’s choice of vehicle with utter contempt. Slowly, a grin stretched across Kenny’s face.

“You’ll hurt her feelings, now, darling,” he hummed, patting the hood. Tweek stared stonily before stomping over to the side door and getting in. Kenny laughed as he followed, starting his truck up. “So. Where am I going then, since you want to do damn secretive?” he asked. Tweek buckled up and checked it nervously, 2 times. His hands stayed curled around the seatbelt, running his fingers along it.

“Just go out to the highway and turn right. It’ll be a little ways,” he finally said vaguely, refusing to sit properly and instead pulling his feet up on the seat so he could hug his knees. Kenny obediently backed up and started following his directions. It was quiet for a mile or 2… then Kenny got bored.

“Spill,” he encouraged, putting on his turn signal. Tweek blinked over at him subtly, but Kenny still caught the movement in his peripheral. 

“In between making that lovely contract that is now in pieces all over my living room floor, I called Henrietta.” A noise of surprise escaped Kenny's chest. “Yeah. I still keep in touch with Pete and Michael, too. Firkle split off after graduating, but we still wish him well,” Tweek yawned, looking out the passenger window.

“I didn’t realize you were still friends with the Goth kids after school,” Kenny admitted. “I mean, I guess I never really thought about it, though.” Tweek snorted.

“Of course you didn’t. You probably tried to forget all about the shithole that South Park is, yeah?” he hummed, broodily staring out the window. 

“I sure did,” Kenny said, passing a slow car. “So what did Henrietta do for you?”

“I asked her to poke back into the Cult of Cthulhu stuff. Of course, they haven’t been involved in it in ages,” Tweek sighed. “But she has her own connections. She’s asked us to come to her shop and talk, she has an item or something we can look at, see if it helps.” 

“Shop?” Kenny questioned, checking his rear view mirror. “She has a shop? What of?”

“She runs a highly recommended vintage and— uh, oddities?—  store. Crystals, incense, haunted dolls, all the good stuff. Michael helps, technically, but he’s gone half the time on a second job,” Tweek told him, picking at a fraying string on his jeans. “Nobody’s ever surprised by this, but she does a great job with it. Fits right in.”

“You’re right, that doesn’t surprise me. We dated in high school awhile, you know,” Kenny yawned. “I haven’t hit her up in ages.”

“She’s very happily dating a woman and has been for 3 years, Kenneth,” Tweek said frostily. “Don’t you try shit.”

“Alright, cranky,” Kenny puffed a gentle laugh and they settle into comfortable silence. It was a longer, but quiet drive, Kenny occasionally glancing over to see Tweek staring at the road with glazed eyes, chin tucked to his chest. He sipped from a water bottle fairly often, and Kenny almost wondered if he got carsick. He didn’t fall asleep though, just roused out of nowhere and muttered something Kenny couldn’t make out. “Come again?”

“This exit, then turn right at the stoplight. Her shop will be obvious,” Tweek said a little more loudly, voice a bit thick and raspy from disuse. It was nice, actually.

“Yes, sir,” Kenny answered with a firm nod. Tweek’s icy look cowed him into silence with a sheepish, little smile. He was right; the store was not subtle. The all-black exterior really gave it away. The aura around it also helped, but Kenny was sure not everybody could feel that. He pulled into a parking space, Tweek getting out so quickly Kenny nearly thought he’d teleported for a moment.

“I have to pee,” Tweek grumbled, disappearing inside with pink cheeks. Kenny shook his head and locked the truck before following with an amused sigh. 

It was… interesting. To say the very least. Shelves upon shelves of crystals, dried herbs, strange ingredients (Kenny never really needed to know what a jar of mouse hearts looked like, honestly), incense, books, pipes and bongs and other glass pieces, and animal bones and hides. Well. He hoped they were just animal. There was a slight shift halfway through, the shelves rearranged differently and more open-spaced— and they were filled with every random item you could imagine. A tricycle, several horrifically ugly dolls, a sun umbrella, a mounted, taxidermy deer head, and a massive boombox were just some of the many noteworthy items that stuck out to Kenny. 

The lighting was dim but warm, it smelled like sage, and it sort of gave him the heebie-jeebies; Kenny decided a fun time was to be had in this place. Tweek came out of the door to his right, which, judging by the toilet in it, was indeed the bathroom he’d claimed he needed to use. 

“Tweek? Is that you?” Henrietta asked, emerging from behind a rack of capes and robes. “It is! Hi, bub, long time, no see.” She bustled over and pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry about the fire, I know how well you’d done with that shithole,” she said softly, Tweek nuzzling into her warm, squishy embrace with a sigh. Kenny almost felt like he was intruding for a moment, not having expected their friendship to be that familiar.

“Hen! It’s okay, I’ve got a plan,” he said softly. “I mean, you heard most of it half-baked this morning while making sympathetic humming noises, but. The sentiment, gh, is greatly appreciated.” Tweek squeezed a little tighter before finally releasing her, offering a big smile as Henrietta eyed him up. 

“You are  _ too _ damn thin! And your eye bags are officially out of control! You look like a starving raccoon,” she began fussing almost immediately. “I can feel all your pointy ass bones poking me, bitch.” Kenny froze for a moment, sure that word would provoke the typical explosive reaction Tweek often offered for bad nicknames. Instead, he laughed, a full, hunched over, belly-aching laugh that burst out of him and left Kenny rooted to the spot in shock at the sound he’d not yet heard. 

“Hen, Hen— I’m fine,” Tweek insisted, smiling a little and stepping back to gesture at himself. “I’ve looked like this for years, don’t act surprised now I’m a walking scarecrow come to life.” Henrietta shook her head and tutted.

“No, you look like hell. I mean, I understand why, but you need to be taking better care of yourself,” she scolded. Tweek put his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, enough parenting for the day, you old biddy,” Tweek grumbled affectionately. Henrietta acquiesced with a sigh, turning back to the shelf she’s been rearranging. 

“I have the…  _ thing _ , in the back. It’s not all of it, but enough that I’m gonna be cautious. That doesn’t need to be out here. Ever.” Henrietta glanced at a few customers occupied by the crystals. “I’ll be closing shortly and then I’ll bring it out. Feel free to make yourself comfortable for the time being,” she said, looking at Kenny. “Don’t fuck anything up,” she added more pointedly before heading towards the shoppers.

Tweek immediately turned to Kenny, eyes already narrowed. “Don’t you  _ dare,  _ do you hear me?” Kenny shrugged easily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kenny hummed innocently, glancing at the dolls and betraying himself. Tweek ground his teeth as Kenny edged back and made his way for them. 

“Kenneth McCormick,” Tweek hissed as Kenny picked up the ugliest one and promptly pulled its dress up to its armpits. He briefly admired the random chips in the porcelain as well as smeared paint job that made it look like the doll was mid-sob with a full face of makeup. 

“She’s not the prettiest broad, huh?” Kenny snickered, pulling down her bloomers. “Doesn’t even have a pussy to make up for it.”

_ “Kenny,”  _ Tweek growled from behind him.

“I mean, really. Nothing going for her,” Kenny laughed, pulling the dress down and setting the doll back on the shelf to grab the next one. “They’re not lookers, that’s for sure.” He started to mock this one too before a small noise caught his attention. Kenny instantly turned to see Tweek curled into himself, eyes shut tight, hands shaking, and face pale. “Shit.”

Tweek exhaled raggedly, eyes slitting open. “They’re pissed off. Thanks, Kenny. They’re angry, and they know I can hear and see them!” He rubbed at his face, shivering, and then twitched with a little grunt. “They’re harassing me, gh, and it’s… it’s— bullshit. Fuck you,” he spat, brushing himself off and stiffly walking into the bathroom. The door slammed shut and the lock was set instantly, the sound of running water immediately starting up. 

“Shit,” Kenny repeated succinctly. He guiltily set the doll down and quickly put them back to proper order, ears burning with shame. After a moment of uselessly standing with his hands in his pockets, Henrietta appeared, obviously done with her customers.

“Where is he?” she demanded. “What did you do to him?”

“Why are you automatically assuming it’s my fault?” Kenny huffed. 

“Is it?”

“...”

“That’s what I thought,” Henrietta scoffed, glancing at the locked bathroom. “What did you do?”

“Uhhh. Guess the dolls didn’t appreciate my teasing and took it out on Tweek,” Kenny sighed, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck and grimacing. Henrietta counted to 3 silently and then smacked him with a hand-held fan. “Ow!”

“Fix it,” she insisted. “Fix him. Go apologize, now.” The look she gave him was less than impressed. 

“You can’t look at me like that when I’ve fucked you, it’s not allowed,” Kenny couldn’t help a little whine slipping into his voice. Henrietta’s look turned decidedly icy.

“Oh my god. Go! Go on!” She pushes him at the door and shook her head, heading for the till as the customers decided they were ready to check out. “Or I’ll kick your scrawny ass myself, McCormick.” 

Kenny believed her. 

“Fine, fine,” he groaned, heading for the bathroom and tentatively knocking. “Tweek?” A disgruntled noise answered him, along with a mutter too quiet to hear over the running water.

“What?” he finally snapped through the door. 

“I’m sorry,” Kenny said gently, meaning it. “I was just trying to be a funny asshole but all I did was come off as a huge dick.” 

“You sure did,” Tweek grumbled, sounding miffed. Kenny winced. “I’ve got the start of a migraine now, I don’t have my meds, and I haven’t had any caffeine in a few hours.”

“I really am sorry, darling,” Kenny repeated softly. “Will you come out so I can apologize properly? You wanna punch me in retaliation? Maybe see if Henrietta has anything to help headaches? You wanna do some breathing exercises again?”  

The lock clicked and the door tentatively swung open, Tweek peering out suspiciously, clearly expecting a trap. Kenny just offered a sheepish smile instead. Deeming it safe, Tweek finally fully emerged, rubbing his temples. “Yeah.”

“Yeah to which part?” Kenny asked a bit desperately. Tweek smiled, just a little— then promptly socked him in the solar plexus with a wicked right hook. Kenny went down to his knees with a strangled gasp, eyes watering. Tweek started giggling, watching him curl up like a dying hermit crab. For a slight thing, he was strong, wiry muscle and precision behind the punch. Vaguely, Kenny figured a little trouble breathing and possible lung damage was worth the huge grin spread across Tweek’s face. “Jesus,” he wheezed.

After a moment, Tweek dropped to his level with an embarrassed sound. “I didn’t actually mean to hurt you that much,” he admitted, clearing his throat. “I thought you’d be tensed a little. That was my bad,” he tittered, carefully patting his back. “Are you alright?” His hand was soft and warm as it gently rubbed circles into his shoulder.

“Fine. That’s a killer arm you got,” Kenny laughed, chest aching. “You box?”

“Sometimes,” Tweek murmured, cheeks hot. “Not that much. It’s good exercise. I like to go really late at night when it’s almost empty.” He shrugged. “It’s one of my few hobbies that most people think is, hh, acceptable and normal.” He carefully offered a hand, Kenny accepting his help to stand back upright. He gingerly touched his aching chest, glancing at Tweek’s arms in newfound appreciation. 

“Well. I certainly learned what’ll happen if I don’t learn to keep my mouth shut,” Kenny snorted, Tweek shaking his head in exasperation. “Now— is Henrietta about finished up? What’s this thing she wants to show us?” Tweek shushed him immediately, glancing over towards where the last few customers were finishing their checkout. 

“You are so bad at this. You’ve spent a quarter of your fucking life as a ghost— how are you so damn bad at this?” Tweek asked dubiously. “How have you not learned  _ any  _ self-preservation instincts? I’m honestly astounded.”

“I’m not out here trying to die!” Kenny protested, scowling a little at the subtle accusation. “Not anymore. The whole edgy, “haha kill myself” thing got old fast,” he said tiredly. “It’s not fun, it hurts, and I want it to stop. That’s why we’re here in the first place, sweetheart,” he pointed out with a loose smile that didn’t reach his eyes in the slightest. Tweek… softened, a little.

“Well. Do a better job of it. You’re really,  _ really  _ good at dying, Kenny,” Tweek told him, and Kenny couldn’t help but crack a smile. Blunt as dull knife. “Okay, all of Hen’s customers are gone and she’s locking up. You need to be careful with what she’s about to show us, you understand? We cannot afford a fuck-up like you did with the dolls,” Tweek continued, looking at him with intense eyes. Kenny almost felt pinned in place, like he had with Watcher.

“I’m not a toddler,” Kenny reminded him. “I do know how to keep my hands and words to myself… sometimes.” Tweek gave him an unamused look and nudged him towards a huge curtain hanging over a door frame with a handwritten, taped on paper sign that read:  _ EMPLOYEES ON LY.  _ Kenny glanced back at Tweek. “Darling,” he deadpanned so dramatically Tweek stopped short, already sighing. “We aren’t employees.”

“Kenny, I swear to fucking god, man,” Tweek growled, shoving past him and slipping through the curtain as Kenny trailed, cackling. “I’m going to end up killing you before this is over,” he grunted, then paused as he realized his words. He looked up at Kenny with such a mortified, pale face— Kenny immediately started wheezing with laughter.

“Fucking— Jesus, your face, Tweek,” Kenny snorted. “Babe! It’s fine, I’m not offended it whatever, you don’t have to give me such a guilty look. The puppy dog eyes just aren’t fair either.” Tweek kinda had the look of a baby animal, when he wasn’t scowling and projecting the whole “fuck everybody and  _ especially  _ you” vibe. Big, dark eyes and his crazy hair fluffing up everywhere because he was constantly running his hands through it, or tugging on the ends, or ruffling the whole thing nervously. Like a duckling. A duckling that wouldn’t hesitate to attack you with a killer right hook. Kenny’s chest still smarted a bit. 

“Well. Fuck you,” Tweek said, ever eloquent as he turned into the room at large. It was a bunch more shelves and things, but everything had a more sinister feel to it. Lot of remains, bones and skins, and jars with pickled organs or— Kenny squinted— animal fetuses. There were several books with their spines covered in blank pieces of paper, taped on tightly. It was lit only by a few candles that smelled like flowery bullshit and made his nose itch, but he had to admit there was some serious aesthetic going on here. 

Tweek sort of looked like he regretted ever getting out of the car as he stared at something on the large table at the center of the room. Kenny sauntered up beside him and looked. There were a few scattered notes, receipts, bills, a grocery list, but the clear focus of the table was a small scrap of old papers that were barely bound by a worm spine of a book. Kenny peered at the title.

“The Necronomicon?” he asked, and Tweek shuddered a little. 

“The Necronomicon,” Henrietta confirmed, slipping out from a side room and making Tweek jump. “Sorry,” she apologized with a faint smirk, and Tweek affectionately shoved at her. “It’s not the full thing, which is both good and highly concerning, because a lot of the missing pieces are about summoning and rituals.”

“Hold up,” Kenny said quickly. “I’m lost. I know we kinda fucked with this when we were kids, but. 4th grade was a long time ago.” 

“This book tells about a bunch of Old Ones,” Henrietta explained. “Creatures like Cthulhu, who wander between this dimension and the next, immeasurably powerful. Not necessarily evil? But scary because of how easily they could destroy the world.”

“Hm. Not great news,” Kenny noted in what might’ve been the biggest understatement of the year. “So there’s pieces missing?”

Henrietta carefully opened it to a random page, feeling the thick, gritty paper and making a quiet noise of displeasure. “Yes. One of my customers brought this to me, actually, it was found floating in Stark’s Pond. There’s a few copies of this book out there in the world, but anytime one shows up around here… It’s not good. South Park is full of chaotic energy enough as is. It doesn’t need any more stirring up, it’s already crazy. The fact this was found so easily is highly concerning to me.”

Tweek rubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily. “My life will never know peace as long as I live in this shithole town, huh?” He exhaled with a noticeable hint of sadness before shaking it off. “I want you to keep the Necronomicon here, you’ve got a lot of safety precautions and you can keep a better eye on it than me.” Tweek touched the cover gingerly, clearly not enjoying the energy radiating off this book. “Whoever had this before knew exactly what they were searching for and didn’t want to fuck with the rest. They only cared about one piece.” 

Kenny slipped his hands in his pockets, definitely feeling inferior knowledge-wise in this room. “Damn.” He whistler briefly. “It’s probably not a coincidence this happened to be found around the same time that Tweek’s café burned to the ground, huh?” Tweek twitched uncomfortably, and Kenny realized a moment too late that might’ve been a bit insensitively worded.

“Coincidences aren’t real,” Tweek scoffed, pulling his hands away from the book. “Henrietta, would you be able to find time in the next few weeks to go through and specifically see what portions have been taken out? I know we know vaguely but I think it’s important to know exactly what we are dealing with. What knowledge is still in their hands.” Tweek sighed again, stepping away.

“Of course, not a problem, hon,” Henrietta said, briefly pulling him into a side hug. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for anymore oddities too. It feels a bit like the calm before a storm right now.”

“I hate that feeling,” Tweek laughed, shaking his head slowly. “Anyway. It was lovely to see you even if the circumstances were utter shit.” He edged back towards the bathroom. “I have to piss again,” he admitted. “And I want to get a couple incense sticks, and then we’ll be going.” Tweek slipped back into the restroom— and Henrietta immediately pinned Kenny with a heavy stare, her long, black nails reminding him entirely too much of claws. 

“What is your relationship with him?” she started coolly.

“I’m paying him to fix me,” Kenny answered easily enough, pretending he didn’t feel like he’d just been pounced on and forced into an interrogation. Henrietta hmm’ed.

“He’s not playing your therapist, right? He’s got enough fucking problems on his own.” She tapped her nails on the table briefly. 

“No. Nothing like that,” Kenny said with a little smile. “Strictly business. He’s made that very clear.” Henrietta paused.

_ “Really?  _ That’s different. He actually likes you. He doesn’t like anybody,” she snorted. Kenny was a bit taken aback at that.

“I can assure you he doesn’t like me. If I fucked off tomorrow I think he’d be the happiest guy on the planet,” Kenny told her. “He needs my money.”

“Nah. If he really didn’t like you, you wouldn’t be here right now. I promise. Obviously you’ve done something to impress him, which— kudos. It’s not easy,” Henrietta said, shrugging. “He likes you, and not because you’re gonna be paying his bills this month. You got him out of the bathroom much quicker than I thought you’d be able to. Well.” She coughed a little laugh. “I wasn’t actually sure you’d be able to get him out of the bathroom at all.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Kenny said dryly, but he was smiling now. “You were just setting me up to fail, huh?”

“Slightly,” Henrietta hummed, not bothered or sheepish in the slightest. “But you didn’t. You succeeded and in due time. I’m telling you— he likes you. That’s rare. He respects your opinion, clearly, and you got away with calling him babe without a fist to the face.”

“He won’t let him call me honey,” Kenny blurted without even thinking about filtering his thoughts a little.

“Well.” Henrietta sized him up with a smirk. “You’re not Craig.” Kenny let that roll off his shoulders, nodding.

“Touché, touché. You’re right, I’m not Tucker Fucker,” Kenny acknowledged. “I still don’t really believe you, but that’s alright.”

“Kenny,” Henrietta said, suddenly a touch more serious. “Would you do me a favor? Keep an eye on him. Try and break those walls down a little. He’s become so much more withdrawn since starting up the shop, and now that it’s gone? I worry about him.” She looked at him imploringly, and Kenny sighed uncomfortably. 

“You realize he’s an adult, right? He’s very capable of handling himself. Actually has his life more together than me,” Kenny pointed out, a bit frustrated. “He did amazing work with the café and almost entirely without help, too. Just because he’s got some mental issues doesn’t mean he can’t take care of himself.” Henrietta winced.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. That’s a disservice to him,” she said softly. “He is fully capable. I just… worry.” Henrietta pulled a pack of cigarettes out from between her tits, Kenny unable to help his startled laughter. “That’s my job. Big, fat mom friend,” she exhaled after lighting her cigarette. “You want one?”

“I’ll pass, but thanks,” he said, resting his hip on the table. Henrietta took another drag. 

“Just. Just do your thing. You bring him out of his shell a little, I can already tell. I can appreciate that.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but Tweek finally emerged, fussing with his hands.

“I don’t like your soap, it doesn’t feel right,” he said, voice tight with irritation to veil the bubbling panic beneath. Kenny briefly poked into his bag and emerged with hand sanitizer.

“Here you go, darling,” he hummed, passing it over and watching Tweek immediately dump half the container on his hands. He took the bottle back and Tweek vigorously scrubbed his hands for a few moments, then calmed.

“Much better. Your soap is fucking awful, Hen.” Tweek slipped out into the main body of the shop and browsed the incense for a bit, getting himself a sizable stack before returning to Henrietta. Kenny contented himself on just watching them argue over whether or not Tweek was allowed to pay for several minutes. Tweek emerged the clear winner, 50 bucks lighter and smiling as he held his bag close.

“I’ll call you later this week, okay?” Tweek asked during goodbyes, allowing Henrietta to squeeze him into a tight bear hug. “It’s getting late now, we won’t be back to South Park until 2am.” 

“Text me when you’re home safe,” Henrietta stressed, talking to Tweek but staring at Kenny as she said it. She pulled away and Tweek started towards the car, Henrietta grabbing Kenny for a moment.

“Yes?”

“Please do take care of him,” she groaned. “I know, I know. I just. I just worry!”

“Fine,” Kenny sighed, rubbing at his temples briefly before getting crushed into a hug. “Oh, I did have a question. Does he get carsick? Should I bring a bag just in case?” Henrietta blinked, slightly mystified.

“Well— no. The car is the only place I’ve seen that boy ever get a restful sleep unless he’s taken a bunch of his emergency meds.” Henrietta shrugged.

“Really? He didn’t sleep once on the way here,” Kenny huffed. She cracked a smile.

“He doesn’t trust you yet.” With that, she clapped him on the back and nudged Kenny towards the door, a very impatient-looking Tweek already sat buckled in the truck. “Now get out of here before he beats your ass.” 

Kenny obediently stumbled down the steps to the driver’s side, Tweek making a cute snort of annoyance as he climbed in and started the truck. It was quiet besides the engine for a few moments.

“I’m really fucking hungry,” Tweek admitted. “Keep an eye out with me for a place to stop on the way back, okay? I’ll pay.” He settled into his seat and then sighed, looking out the window as Kenny agreed and backed up. They pulled out into the road and slowly made their way back towards South Park. 

It wasn’t home for Kenny, not anymore, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t for Tweek either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is literally 15k now and tweek as barely touched kenny can u all say,,, slow burn  
> this fic is growing out of control expect at least 50k
> 
> FAIR WARNING i didnt even proofread theres probs a million tiny mistakes my beta one day will fix everything sorry i just am so LATE posting THIS

**Author's Note:**

> we trying shorter chapters hoping for more content more often u know??? this fic is my baby. i been planning for months. 
> 
> welcome to rarepair hell babey!!!! unbeta'd as per usual
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](https://craigtherewhoisahomosexual.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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